


Worth of a Sacrifice

by tirsynni



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Dark, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Missing Scene, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6223432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirsynni/pseuds/tirsynni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Marcoh tells the Elrics and Major Armstrong that he can't help them with the Philosopher's Stone, Edward has one more card to play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth of a Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Another from my livejournal and from my Slut!Ed fics.

_This damned . . . pretentious . . . **bastard!**_

Edward Elric shook with fury as Dr. Marcoh shook his head, patronizing regret etched into his aging features. How damned arrogant of this bastard, assuming he knew so fucking much about them, about their situation, thinking _he had suffered more than they did!_ For one blinding moment, he hated this man for his sage, mournful, _condescending_ attitude more than he had ever hated Roy Mustang.

"It’s better if you didn’t see it," Marcoh continued, his voice as soft as ever. "That’s the research of the devil. Once you know about it, you’ll see the very face of hell."

_. . . a disfigured face . . . white, white ribs . . . that ghastly, mocking grin. . . ._

_Blood. So much blood._

Edward bared his teeth, too aware of the sweat dripping down his face. "If you’re talking about hell," he snarled, "I saw it a long time ago!"

Marcoh’s eyes widened. Before Edward could begin to hope, the doctor turned away. The regret never left his features. ". . . I can’t let you. Please, go home."

Feeling nauseous, Edward slammed his palm on the table and trembled. No. Not when they were this damned close. He could practically feel the Philosopher’s Stone in his fingers!

**_I promise, Al. No matter what it takes . . . I’ll restore you to normal!_ **

That oft-repeated promise echoing through his mind, Edward shakily pushed himself up. He could do this. What was one more sacrifice?

"Sir, Al," he spoke, proud of his steady tone. "Can you wait outside? I need to talk to Dr. Marcoh alone."

Both of them looked at him, uncertainty and gentle concern in their dramatically opposing eyes, but Edward simply forced a small smile at them. "Just want to talk," he lied. "That’s all."

He couldn’t believe he was going to do this. However, if nothing else, Marcoh clearly believed in equivalent exchange. It screamed from the way he walked, talked, looked, even from the fearful glint in his eyes. He believed he had sinned, and the price of those sins still weighed him down.

_If I can’t get him to tell me about the Philosopher’s Stone, at least I’ll have this over him._ Even as he smiled at his companions, Edward clenched his hand on the table. _And you said I never learned from you, shit-colonel._

"We will wait for you outside, Edward Elric," Armstrong boomed, rising and picking up Al.

There was something painfully . . . _knowing_ in his brother’s glowing eyes. "Remember the rules of equivalent exchange, Brother," Alphonse said softly, and then Armstrong whisked the armored boy outside.

**_To make something, you need to sacrifice something of equal value._ **

Edward grinned grimly at the door. _Haven’t forgotten, Brother. But remember: one who does not sacrifice anything cannot achieve anything_.

He turned away from the door to see Marcoh eying him warily. "You won’t be able to make me tell you anything," Marcoh declared. The tremble in his voice made Edward nauseous. "No matter–"

Edward raised a hand, silencing him. "I would never do that," he retorted, feeling his anger fade. He preferred that rage to the sick feeling clamoring in his stomach. "How could I do something like that when all those people in town rely on you? Even if we restored our bodies by robbing this town of its life support, it’d just leave a nasty aftertaste."

Sighing heavily, Marcoh sat across from him. "That reasoning is why I cannot help you in your search for the Philosopher’s Stone. Someone like you should never be tainted with the devil’s research."

Edward stared steadily at him. "I’m already tainted. More than that, I’m desperate. While having my limbs back would be great, I need the Philosopher’s Stone for Alphonse. You saw him, you saw the condition he’s in. Only the Philosopher’s Stone can help him."

After a moment, Marcoh leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Edward was grateful for that. The look in Marcoh’s eyes was making him feel shaky, and he could not afford to be shaky.

"Young man," Marcoh murmured, "you do not understand the enormity of the situation."

Edward leaned forward. "Then tell me!" he urged. "Help me understand!"

Marcoh shook his head, and momentarily, Edward closed his eyes. Equivalent exchange. The nature of sacrifice.

As quietly as he could with a metal leg, Edward slipped over to Marcoh’s side of the table. The older man didn’t open his eyes, so Ed slid into Marcoh’s lap. The older man started, but Ed quieted any potential cry he might have made with his lips and tongue.

Oh, yeah. This was the kiss of someone who hadn’t gotten any for a while. Taking advantage of Marcoh’s shock, Edward deepened the kiss, balancing himself with his remained arm. He pressed his hips hard against Marcoh’s, gyrating and struggling to kiss so deeply he sucked the man’s tonsils. Already, he could feel the man’s cock begin to harden.

With a soft moan, Marcoh grasped Edward’s shoulders and shoved him back. Edward caught himself before he fell. Unblinking, he met those stunned eyes.

"Do you believe," Marcoh choked, "that if you whore yourself out to me, then I’ll help you? Is that what the military taught you?"

Marcoh had only shoved his upper body away. Edward could still feel Marcoh through their pants, harder than he had expected. _When was the last time you got any? Has celibacy been a form of penance for you?_

"Alchemy has taught me the value of equivalent exchange," Edward retorted, deliberately thrusting forward. Some part of him ached when Marcoh involuntarily whimpered and arched. "I’m showing you my hand."

Marcoh gasped, and Edward could see the protest building on his lips. He cut it off with his mouth.

_There’s nothing wrong with what I’m doing. It’s just equivalent exchange. It doesn’t hurt anyone, and I haven’t met a guy yet who doesn’t like sex. This is fine._

He chanted that in his mind as he unzipped Marcoh’s pants and sucked the man’s tongue. He could feel Marcoh getting into it, feel the man writhing under him, feel him harden even more in his hand. He ignored the man’s tears, only allowing relief to seep through when Marcoh grabbed the back of his head and pulled him deeper into the kiss. The man’s tongue was large and awkward in his mouth, and Marcoh was drooling too much, but Edward concentrated on unzipping his own pants.

As he broke free to pull his pants down his thighs, Marcoh swallowed thickly. "You don’t have to do this," he pleaded desperately. "This . . . this isn’t right. Sex isn’t– "

When Ed kissed Marcoh this time, it was with his teeth. He wasn’t in the mood for the man’s hypocritical bullshit. Not when Marcoh’s dick was wetting his hole with its precum.

The agony in Marcoh’s eyes transformed into pleasure as Edward shoved himself down. The head of the doctor’s cock tore past his dry, tight entrance, but Ed only growled and bore himself down. Marcoh whimpered into his mouth, and Ed struggled not to scream in return as the man thrust, burying himself completely in Ed’s body. He could feel his blood lubricating Marcoh’s frantic thrusts. He simply scraped his teeth against Marcoh’s lips. From past experience, Ed knew he would be fine.

"This is wrong," Marcoh moaned into his mouth. "This is wrong. . ."

Ed bit again and tightened his anus. Marcoh wailed. Each thrust became smoother than the last. Blood stained Marcoh’s thighs. Only Edward was aware of that, and he didn’t care.

Marcoh clutched Ed’s back as he slammed into the young man. By the man’s raspy panting, Ed knew it wasn’t going to be much longer. Obligingly, he tightened and writhed, feeling his hole squeezing the hard cock. On cue, Marcoh groaned painfully, and Ed shuddered at the feel of that hot cum pouring inside him, the salty liquid burning his wounds.

He waited until Marcoh stopped thrusting and collapsed back into the chair. Then Edward eased himself away from the limp dick and began to clean himself up. He hurt, his stomach cramped, and he could feel liquid still trickling out of his abused hole. Edward swallowed back bile and wiped himself down with Marcoh’s napkins.

"You . . . you didn’t–" Marcoh managed weakly.

"No, I didn’t," Edward interrupted. The blood and cum cleaned, he pulled up his pants. He faced the trembling man. "Remember, Dr. Marcoh: equivalent exchange. I’ll be at the station with the others."

Edward left the man there, white-faced and shaking. As always, he buried his shame and disgust away. He ignored his sudden desire to shower. Most importantly, he sealed away the memory of those horrified eyes.

Unlike Armstrong, he felt no surprise when Marcoh met him at the station.

Unfortunately, Alphonse displayed no surprise, either.

_Some things, Brother, have no rate of exchange._

_I know, Al. Everything else, however, does._

_Brother–_

_C’mon, Al. It’s time to get back to work._

If there were some odd noises from the bathroom that night . . . Al was kind enough to stay quiet.


End file.
